Moon Shell Beach: A Novel (2 page)

ONE

1994

H
i, Mrs. Laney, where’s Lexi?” Clare ambled into Laney’s Dry Goods Emporium, bringing a gust of crisp October air with her. Her curly brown hair was held back with a tartan headband and she was glowing from the morning’s game. Her sophomore year in high school, she was throwing herself wholeheartedly into team sports.

Myrna Laney was ringing up a sale. “Did we win?”

Clare pumped her fist. “Whalers four, Wareham a big fat egg!”

“Good for you girls!” Mrs. Moody, who led the community chorus, looked up from signing the charge card. “Only one more game before the tournament, right?”

“Right.” Clare held up crossed fingers.

Myrna slipped Patricia Moody’s purchase into a bag. “Lexi’s just cleaning up the dressing rooms,” she told Clare. “Go on back.”

At the far end of the store were four dressing rooms. Lexi was there, scooping up discarded clothing and fastening them back onto the hangers. “Hey, Doe.” Seeing Clare’s face, she said, “Well, I can tell you guys won.”

“Victory is sweet!” Clare did a little dance, then picked up a sweater and folded it, helping Lexi. “I really wish you’d try out for the field hockey team.”

“Right. Because I’m such a jock.”

“I think you could be if you tried.”

Gangly Lexi gave her a stare.

“Well,” Clare amended, “I think you could be better than you think you are.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lexi said. “I’ve got to work here after school and on Saturdays. I don’t even have time to
watch
field hockey. The only time my parents let me off is for the homecoming football game.”

“I know.” Clare ran her hands down a pair of wool slacks, smoothing them. “It’s not fair.”

“Oh, Clare, it’s fine,” Lexi argued amiably. “I’m such a spaz, I don’t enjoy sports. Besides, I’m saving money for the class trip to New York.”

“New York? I thought you were going with the French class to Paris in the spring.”

Lexi slumped against the wall. “Didn’t I tell you? That’s out. No way can I make enough money for that.”

“But I thought the school was paying for part of the trip. What have we been holding the car washes and lotteries for?”

“Mom and Dad got a letter from the school. We still have to come up with a thousand dollars. No way can we raise that.”

“That
sucks.
” Clare chewed her lip, thinking. “Well, if you don’t go, I won’t go.”

“You have a chance to go to Paris and you won’t take it! That’s crazy.”

“I won’t have any fun if you’re not there,” Clare said loyally. With a pile of clothing over her arms, she followed Lexi out of the dressing room area back into the store. “Anyway, I don’t care about Paris. What I really want is for you to come cheer for us at the Division II tournament in November.”

“If the Whalers win next weekend.”

“We will. So you have to come to the tournament, okay?” She tugged on Lexi’s shirt, doing her best annoying child imitation. “Please, pretty please?”

Lexi laughed. “Go harass my mother. She makes the scheduling decisions.”

The bell over the door chimed as Mrs. Moody left. Now that no customers were around, Clare approached Lexi’s mother. “Mrs. Laney, can Lexi have Saturday off in two weeks to come to our tournament?”

“I’m already letting Lexi off on Thursday afternoon so she can go to the Cape while you get your braces tightened,” Myrna reminded Clare.

“But if we play the Vineyard?” Martha’s Vineyard, “the other island,” was Nantucket’s fiercest rival for all sports.

Myrna gave in. “All right. If you play the Vineyard.”

“Yes!” Clare leaned over the counter and hugged Lexi’s mother. “You’re the best.”

“We’re having chili tonight,” Myrna told her. “And Fred and I were thinking it was time for you two girls to learn to play bridge.”

“Because we can’t play board games because
Adam
never stays home on Saturdays now that he’s a big fat senior,” Lexi called from the other side of the store.

“I’d love to learn bridge!” Clare said. “And I love your chili. I’ll bring dessert.”

“Something chocolate?” Lexi called.

“You got it. A cake…or maybe brownies…” Clare waved and headed out into the brilliant autumn day.

TWO

1996

C
lare ran her tongue over the smooth surface of her teeth as she stood in line to board the Hy-Line fast ferry. She was a senior in high school, and
finally,
her heinous braces were off! She felt teary and celebratory and kind of shaky. And weirdly lonely.

When she’d first had the braces put on, two years ago, the orthodontist had been on Nantucket, but he moved to the Cape, so she had to make trips off-island for her appointments. Sometimes it was fun. Sometimes Lexi came with her and they went shopping at the Cape Cod Mall. But today was a Saturday, early in October, and Lexi had to help her parents in their store.

Clare looked around the cabin. The wind had risen during the day and the seas were choppy, so she didn’t want to sit on the upper deck. Her favorite seat up front was already taken. She dumped her backpack on one of the small round tables and dropped into a chair. It was just beginning to rain, long drops streaking down the ferry windows. The line of passengers coming up the ramp and into the boat moved faster as the rain increased from spatters to a heavy downpour.

At the end of the line shuffled a tiny old woman, so uncoordinated it seemed she took two steps back for every step she took forward. Old Mrs. Gill, one of the island’s more eccentric characters. A cranky, suspicious old hermit, she lived by herself in a spooky old falling-apart house just outside town, the same house she’d grown up in and never left. Clare remembered when she was in seventh grade, when she went with a church group singing Christmas carols. At Mrs. Gill’s house, instead of offering them hot chocolate or cookies, the old nutcase had switched on the porch light and yelled at them to leave before she called the cops. Clare had seen her around town occasionally since then and felt sorry for her, the way age was bending the old woman’s back and curving her hands into claws. Elementary school kids made up songs about her—she really was the island’s hag. She had even begun to grow a mustache and a bit of a beard. And she was getting meaner and meaner. If you said hello to her on the street, she’d just snarl.

But now Clare wondered if she should go help her up the ramp. She rose from her seat. Then she saw Jesse Gray say something to the boat attendant and run out into the rain.

Jesse Gray,
wow.
He was the handsomest, coolest, sexiest guy in the senior class. She knew he’d slept with half the girls in high school, and a lot of older women, too. He was just awesome. Clare almost fainted whenever he nodded at her in the hallway.

Now there he was, putting his arm around old Mrs. Gill and ushering her patiently up the ramp. The rain darkened Jesse’s blue jeans and plastered his Red Sox T-shirt against his chest. Lucky old Mrs. Gill!

When they finally made it into the dry harbor of the cabin, Mrs. Gill wrenched her arm away from Jesse. “Get your hands off me, young man!” she snapped. “I don’t need your help!”

Heads turned. You could tell right away who was an islander and who wasn’t. The tourists looked puzzled, but the islanders rolled their eyes. Some of them gave Jesse a thumbs-up.

Mrs. Gill sidled over to a bench and plopped down. Immediately she began to dig around in the enormous plastic bag she carried with her everywhere.

Jesse watched to be sure she was settled, then looked around the cabin.

His eyes met Clare’s.

He smiled.

Clare smiled back.

“Hey, Clare.” Jesse ambled over. “What’s up?” He dropped into the chair opposite her.

Omigod omigod, Clare thought. He knew her name! Part of her was so overwhelmed by his presence she wanted to squeal. Jesse Gray coming over to talk to her?

Snap out of it,
Clare told herself. “I just got my braces off.”

“Let me see,” Jesse said, leaning forward.

Nervously, she showed him her teeth.

“Awesome. You’ve got a great smile.”

“Thanks.” Her heart was triple-timing in her chest. “Why were you off-island?”

“My truck. Had to take it to the Jeep place for an overhaul.”

Clare grinned. Jesse’s truck, a 1975 Chevy pickup, was famous in town. “It must cost a lot to keep it going.”

“You have no idea. My whole life’s devoted to that old gal. I’ve had to work after school and on weekends down at Don Allen Auto. I have the social life of a piece of wood.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Clare said, surprising herself with the flirtation in her tone. Without even thinking about it, she’d relaxed back into her chair with her arms crossed behind her neck, unconsciously sticking out her breasts. Flushing, she changed positions, digging around in her backpack for her water bottle, even though she wasn’t thirsty.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Jesse told her. Raindrops dripped down from his hair onto his face and chest.

Clare pulled a sweatshirt from her backpack. “You’re soaked. Put this on.”

“Well, thanks, Mom,” Jesse said with a grin.

Then he raised his arms and drew off his wet T-shirt, exposing his muscular chest. Blond hair lightly matted his skin and longer hair furred his armpits. He slid Clare’s sweatshirt over his head. Jesse was slender and not much taller than Clare; still the sweatshirt was ridiculously tight.

He noticed Clare staring. “What do you think?”

Her throat had gone dry. “About what?”

He held up his arms as if he were a model. “A fashion statement?”

“More like a fashion cry for help.”

They both laughed.

“Want some hot chocolate?” Jesse asked.

Clare nodded. “Sure.” As Jesse walked to the snack bar, the ferry left the harbor for the open waters of the Sound. Jesse was going to sit with her for the whole trip!
Clare,
she ordered herself,
you are not allowed to act like a geek.

Jesse returned with two paper cups of hot chocolate. They lifted the lids. Steam rolled up into the air.

“So,” Jesse said, “are you contributing anything to the school literary review?”

“Nope. Literature’s not my talent, even though my dad teaches English.”

“Are you artistic?”

So Jesse knew about her family. Jesse was
aware
of her.

She shook her head. “Can’t draw, either.” She leaned forward. “You know what I can do? I can cook, and I love to cook.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” Jesse said.

And something about the way he looked at her, his blue eyes so warm on her face, his whole presence focused on her, made her say, “Sure. I’d like to do that.” And she wasn’t even afraid when she said the words. She was ready.

The Saturday after
she met Jesse on the ferry, she invited him to her house for dinner and a video. She told her parents about it, and they gave her their approval in their vague way. Clare didn’t tell Lexi because, well, she wasn’t even sure this was a
date.
Whatever it was, it was exciting, and frightening, and it was
hers
.

Probably nothing would happen. Probably tomorrow she’d tell Lexi, and they’d laugh at what a geek she was.

Still, she went schizo dressing. She tried on a pretty sweater, then cast it aside—too dressy. She finally chose a long-sleeved red tee that set off her dark hair and eyes.

The evening before, she’d made a stew, so the flavors could mingle overnight. She was glad she’d prepared, because when Jesse arrived at her house, his presence took her breath away. He wore jeans and a white button-down shirt, a dress-up shirt that made him look like such a
man.
Her mind was completely befuddled.

“Hi, Jesse, come in, dinner’s ready, I thought we’d eat in the living room, want to watch MTV?” She knew she was babbling; she couldn’t help herself.

“Sure.” Jesse ambled behind her, completely calm.

In the kitchen, she ladled out the stew and handed Jesse a plate. “I didn’t make a salad, guys usually hate salads, and besides, the stew has lots of veggies…”
What was she, a fifty-year-old nutritionist?
She wanted to clamp her own hands over her blithering mouth.

“Smells great.” Jesse’s fingers brushed hers as he took his bowl.

She nearly fainted. “Drink?” Her voice came out in a squeak.

“Milk’s fine. Or water.”

Clare led him into the den, and suddenly she was embarrassed by how alone they were in the room. “My dad’s off-island for a teacher’s conference,” she explained. She’d already set up the TV tables, and she put out the utensils and napkins with shaking hands. “And Mom’s in her bedroom—” Oops,
bedroom
. “She always goes up early, she takes a cup of chamomile tea and a book. She has a bad back from painting.”

“My parents are off-island, too.” Jesse settled onto the sofa and pulled the tray toward him.

The sofa!
Clare thought, her face burning, why had she put the trays side by side on the sofa? Why didn’t she just wear a big sign saying,
I hope my thigh touches yours!
She sat down, squeezing herself as far away from him as she could.

“This is delicious, Clare,” Jesse told her.

“Thanks.” She watched him lick his lips and her breath caught in her throat.

“I like this song,” Jesse said, nodding toward the television.

“Oh, me too.” She had to eat; she couldn’t sit there and gape at him.

Somehow they got through the meal. When they were through eating, they moved the trays aside. Jesse helped her carry the dishes into the kitchen.

“Um, ice cream?” She’d considered making a pie or a cake, but decided that would be too dorky.

“Sure.”

As Clare moved around the room, her every movement was defined by how close it brought her to Jesse. Finally she managed to hand him a bowl of ice cream without dropping it, and then they went back into the living room, where the television flickered and the lights were low.

She sat on the sofa. Jesse sat, too, but closer to her than before. He ate his dessert, then put the bowl on his TV tray. He shifted to look at her full on.

“Want to watch another channel?” she asked nervously.

“Not really,” Jesse said. “You?”

Clare shook her head. He was close to her. It was all so intense she felt she was about to cry.

“Hey,” Jesse said. “Don’t look so serious. Let me see your million-dollar smile.”

Clare blinked as she managed a tremulous smile.

Jesse ran the tips of his fingers lightly over her teeth. “Very nice.” He ran his fingertips over her lips. “Also very nice.” Leaning forward, he kissed her gently.

She was afraid she’d do something wrong. She didn’t know how to kiss. She knew Jesse was experienced and she didn’t want to seem pathetic and naive.

It was amazing, how natural the kiss was, how warm and right. She drew back, looking into Jesse’s blue eyes.

“Jesse. I don’t want to be just another…
girl
for you.”

His smile was like an angel’s. “Hey, Clare. I know that. You’re special. Trust me.”

She trusted him.

Monday, Clare sauntered
into the cafeteria for lunch. She wasn’t the least bit hungry. She was so full of happiness she had no appetite for anything else. She drifted toward the table where she usually sat with Lexi and a bunch of other girls who weren’t cheerleaders but weren’t The Hopeless and the Damned, either. She smiled, thinking of how she would casually mention that she was going out with Jesse Gray.

Someone grabbed her elbow, hard. Clare turned. “Hi, Lexi.”

Lexi seemed ready to explode. “Are you dating Jesse Gray?”

Clare winced. “Lex, we just had one date. I didn’t know it was going to get so serious so fast.”

“So
serious
?” Lexi looked stricken. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Lex.” Clare took Lexi’s arm and led her toward the cafeteria line. “Chill. Everyone’s looking at us. Look, I’ll call you, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lexi nodded. “Come over after school.”

Clare winced. “Um…I’m doing something with Jesse after school.”